Goldilocks and the Two Bears
by Shinoda Senshi
Summary: Chris Jericho stumbles across a house in the woods. No good can come from this. Warning: M/M Slash
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing by myself and I don't even show up in this story. And, frankly, with my credit card bill and student loans, it really isn't worth it to sue me. Chris Jericho and other characters belong to WWE and/or Vince McMahon... yadda yadda yadda. Enjoy!

**Warning**: Story contains strong language and male/male adult interactions. Rated M for a reason.

* * *

**Goldilocks and the Two Bears  
**Part I

Chris stared at the little house sitting by the lake. It was an old, rickety two-story monstrosity that looked like it was being held together with nails, caulk, and spit. A crooked, weed-choked path led up to the door. Some of the paving stones stuck up at odd angles while others had long since sunk into the ground. The door was an old-fashioned type with a big brass knocker instead of a doorbell. It was the sorriest thing he had laid eyes on since he'd come across that three-legged, tailless squirrel a half a mile back.

As pledge of Theta Kappa Mu, he had experienced his share of hazing. There were the midnight Denny's runs, the recitations of nursery rhymes whenever a specific person's name was called – Chris' tune was "I'm a Little Teapot"—, and the Blind Man's Bluff through Poison Ivy Alley. This latest prank had been one of the more unbelievable of stunts. He'd been prepared for the kidnapping and the blindfold. And, after the last set of trials, he had learned to go to bed wearing a pair of track pants with his cell phone and some cash stowed in a hidden pocket. The last guy that had been dragged naked out of bed had to wear a layer of calamine lotion under his shorts for a week.

Therefore, he had been ready when that bunch of nutcases shoved him and his fellow pledges into the back of a van and dropped them off, one by one, in the middle of nowhere as the sun went down. Each of them had been given a map and a compass and had been informed that the last one to reach the House would spend the rest of the semester doing Denny's runs.

Over two hours after being dropped off in this no man's land, Chris realized he'd had a better chance of finding the lost city of Atlantis than finding his way home. But at least he wouldn't have to worry about doing the Denny's runs. With all this overgrowth, it would take at least a month before they found his body. His cell phone had been absolutely useless in the land that civilization forgot. Having lost his last bar as soon as the van veered off the main road, his top-of-the-line gadget was reduced to the status of over-priced time-keeper. And he was sure that the only place this map would lead him was to Sesame Street.

This was why he was standing in front of the only sign of human life for miles around. It would be just his luck if the dump turned out to be abandoned. Out of courtesy, he tried the knocker. Three deep booms resonated deep into the dwelling, but nothing stirred. Not even a flicker of a window curtain. It seemed the only things out in that neck of the woods were him and a slightly lame squirrel.

Expecting the door to be locked, he nearly jumped out of his pants when the knob turned easily under his hand and the door slowly swung open. The hinges creaked loud enough to wake the dead as he gazed into the pitch black interior of the house. At this point, any person with half a brain would turn tail then and there. Maybe Stumpy the Squirrel had a place he could spend the night.

Chris had more than half a brain. He had his wits about him and reasoned that a house in such decrepit condition must be abandoned. What kind of person would willingly stay in a dump like this, with absolutely no human contact?

The desperate kind. And Chris certainly fell into that category. He'd take his chances inside the house.

He felt along the wall for a light switch. Even if he found one, he doubted it would be of any use. From little he could recall of high school physics, there had to be a flow of electricity for a light switch to function. And the last time he'd checked, it cost money to keep the lights on. This did not look like the home of a person who could afford the bare necessities. Chris easily found the switch, said a little prayer, and flicked it.

The first surprise was that the switch actually worked. Light filled the room, leading to the second surprise. The place was immaculate, pristine, with not one item out of place. The carpet beneath his feet was a lush burgundy color. His sneakers suck deep with every step. The walls were a rich cream with coffee accents bordering the ceiling. The furniture was polished wood, maybe oak or maple. The sofa and loveseat was covered in brown leather, worn in places from use. It had a broken-in quality, like the owner knew every lump and dip because they had made them. A brick fireplace sat against the far wall, a marble mantle surrounded it. Chris was too drawn by the smell of food to notice the pictures placed on top of it.

Across from the sitting area was a large round table surrounded by wooden chairs. In the middle of the table sat the largest stack of ribs that Chris had ever seen. He was sure they had to have come from an entire head of cattle or perhaps some other large land mammal. There was a basket of biscuits, a bowl of baked beans, and a case of Captain Morgan's. Until he smelled that delicious aroma, Chris had no idea he had worked up such a hunger. If he hadn't stumbled upon this place, he would have had to dine on acorns alongside Stumpy.

Chris hurried over to the table and snatched a piece of meat from the top of the pile. The sweet, tangy scent of barbeque sauce set his mouth to watering and he took a big bite. Disobeying his mother's direct orders, he chewed loudly and with his mouth open. It was a disgusting display, but Chris was far from caring. All he wanted was a full belly. He'd pick up his manners on the way out.

The hint of spiciness from the sauce grew and grew until it was like the Devil was holding a bonfire in Chris' mouth. He dropped the rib onto the table, smudging the cloth, and searched for something to end his suffering. He was about to down a bottle of rum before remembering that bread would be better. He stuffed a biscuit in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and then repeated the process with two more biscuits.

Once satisfied that none of his fillings were melted or that he'd done no permanent damage to his taste buds, Chris eyed the rest of the food warily. For all he knew, the whole lot could be contaminated with Devil's Spit. He tasted a spoonful of beans and awaited the ball of fire. When it did not come, he deemed the beans edible and devoured half the bowl. He noticed a second, smaller platter of ribs. Knowing a man cannot survive on beans alone, he decided to give them a try. To his delight, they were juicy and tender without making his eyes and nose run. Belly full and feeling jolly, Chris decided to give the place a look around. Seeing as the inside was nothing like the outside, he wondered what other surprises it might be hiding.

Past the sitting and dining areas was a staircase leading to the upper level, and a corridor heading towards the back of the house. Following the corridor, he came across a bathroom, a laundry room with a washer and dryer, and an entertainment room. The large room was filled with state of the art equipment. A big screen plasma TV mounted on the wall along with surround-sound speakers. A DVD player along with two different video game consoles. On the walls on either side of the television were racks of movies and games. The furniture was the same as in the sitting area. The couches in this room, however, were larger and there were two recliners as well.

Chris took a seat in the recliner on his left. It was covered in black leather and the thing damn near swallowed him whole. He sank deeply into the soft cushions and had to grab hold of the armrests for fear that he might never get out of it. While it had only taken him less than thirty seconds to get into it, it took him more than five minutes to get out of it. Two of those minutes had been spent cursing himself for getting into this mess in the first place.

He left the room, leaving the other chair untouched. It was probably a deathtrap as well. Returning to the front of the house, he went up the stairs. At the top were two rooms, one on each side. Both of the doors were closed so Chris used the Eeney, Meeney, Miney, Moe Method of choosing which room to enter. The room on the right was Moe.

What immediately drew Chris' eye was the bed. If there was a size beyond king, this bed would be it. It was as if two normal-sized beds had gotten together, mated, and produced this gigantic mutant offspring. It was massive. It was monstrous. And, after taking a running leap and landing in the middle, Chris discovered that it was as soft as a cloud in Heaven.


	2. Chapter 2

**Goldilocks and the Two Bears  
**Part II

"I can't believe you forgot the coleslaw!" Mark hollered over the roar of his motorcycle engine.

"I said I was sorry!"

Kane pulled his bike into the garage behind the house he and his brother shared. Surrounded by woods and situated beside a lake, it was quiet and secluded. Just the way they liked it. The only way to or from town was the road behind the house, the road he and his brother had just used. Of course, a person could try to travel through the woods, but it was foolish, if not dangerous. They rarely had visitors which was a good thing because his brother really wasn't a people person. He wasn't an animal person, either. There were times that Kane doubted he was a person at all.

They shut off their engines and climbed off their motorcycles. Mark was the first inside.

"But how could you forget the coleslaw?" His booming voice bounced off the walls of the laundry room, the only connection between the garage and the house. "It's the most important part of the meal!"

"I thought the meat was the most important part of the meal," commented Kane. He pulled a towel out of the cabinet by the door. For late September it felt like mid-July. The air was thick in the little room and perspiration caused his shirt to stick to his skin. He took it off and threw it on top of the washer, vowing to take care of it in the morning.

"Are you contradicting me, boy?" Mark, too, had removed his shirt and was bending down to take off his boots. "Because you know how I feel about that."

"I was just stating an opinion." Kane picked his brother's shirt off the floor and tossed it into the washing machine before placing both pairs of boots by the door. Though he loved his brother – he was his only living relative, so Kane had no choice – he couldn't stand cleaning up after him. He was half convinced the man only left stuff lying around just to see how long it would take him to pick it up and put it in its proper place. If left to his own devices, Mark would've turned their home into an animal's den, complete with the bones of meals tossed into every corner. While Kane was no neat freak, he did prefer not to live in a breading ground of microorganisms. "Coleslaw is just finely shredded salad. It's just a side-dish."

"Just a side-dish?!" Hell-fire blazed in Mark's eyes. If possible, his voice increased in volume. "Is the Mona Lisa just a painting?"

"Frankly, I don't see what all the hype is about," Kane muttered, opening the door and stepping into the house. "It's just a woman with a crooked smile. I'm sure there are lots of people with crooked smiles and you don't see any of them rushing out to get their portraits done." As soon as he got to the base of the staircase, he knew something was wrong.

"Are the pyramids just a bunch of geometric structures built by people with too much time on their hands? Is _Doctor Who_ just a science fiction show?"

Kane interrupted his brother's rant as soon as he stopped to take a breath. "Now you know I love The Doctor as much as you do. But I think there are a few things you may have overlooked. One, coleslaw does not rank in the category of one of the world's wonders. It's deli salad. And two, the lights are on."

Mark looked around and finally noticed that the lights were, indeed, on. That was not how they had left the place. Mark was all about conservation of energy. He'd read magazines, collected pamphlets and even considered putting up a web page. That is, as soon as his jackass of a brother taught him how. It galled him that his younger sibling could be so techno-savvy when Mark could barely tell the DVD remote from the TV remote.

"Dammit, Kane!"

"Don't 'dammit' me! I wasn't the one who left them on. One lecture from you was enough, thank you very much. And I think leaving a pamphlet on my bed about me raping Mother Earth of her resources just because I watched all of my _Torchwood_ episodes back to back was a bit excessive. Especially since _you _haven't gotten rid of your bike."

Mark crossed his arms across his chest. "It has sentimental value. Besides, you haven't given up your motorcycle either."

"It's the only transportation I have! And I'm not about to ride bitch with you. I'd rather die a slow, painful death from exposure to radiation. _Lots_ of radiation. Preferably the kind that created The Hulk or that spider that bit Peter Parker."

"God, you are such a geek!" Mark strode through the living room. "I can't believe we're related."

"I know, but it's true. I've got the DNA results to prove it."

Mark stopped in front of the open front door. He was damn sure he hadn't left it like that. "You have DNA results?" He studied the door and found no signs of forced entry. The wood wasn't splintered and the hinges creaked in their usual manner. Most likely it had been left unlocked. It wasn't that odd of an occurrence since neither of them expected to be robbed by Thumper. The wind had probably blown it open and Kane had forgotten to turn off the lights. Apparently, another lecture was in order.

"Of course I have results." Kane carried the container of coleslaw into the dining room. "You think I would just take my father's word for it?" Looking at the food set on the table, he knew there was definitely something screwy going on. "There's something rotten in Denmark," he called to his brother.

"Well, I didn't leave any food in there." Mark approached the table. "Maybe something crawled in there and died."

It took Kane a few moments to work out what his brother was babbling about. "Not 'rotten in the den, Mark'! I said 'rotten in Denmark'. It means something's hinky. Look at the spread." He waved his hand over the table like a magician performing a trick. "Notice anything out of the ordinary? Anything unusual?"

Mark's eyes just about popped out of his head. "Half the food's gone!"

Kane smirked at his reaction. "Good to see you're not just a pretty face."

He turned the full force of his glower on his baby brother. "You've been feedin' that damn tripod of a squirrel, haven't you? You snuck him in when I went to the bathroom, didn't you? Why do you have to be so soft-hearted and so hard-headed?"

Kane resisted the urge to smack him upside the head. Mark was always extra touchy whenever his feeding schedule got interrupted. Them having to go back to town just to pick up a side-dish had not helped matters. "No, I didn't let him in. I haven't seen Stumpy since you scared him off last week. Therefore, someone else as eaten our dinner. Or, to be more specific, _my_ dinner." He pointed to the bare rib bones. Not even a speck of sauce remained. They had been picked, licked and sucked clean.

"Serves you right for taking in all those pitiful creatures. As you can plainly see, none of my food has been touched." His pile of ribs was exactly the same as he'd left it.

"That's because you always order them covered in that extra spicy sauce. It makes my eyeballs sweat just thinking about it. I'm gonna go out on a limb and suggest that there is a two-legged culprit behind this."

Mark took a bite out of a biscuit. "If you're talking about my ex-wife, then you're wrong. If it were her, there would be a bunny boiling on the stove."

"You check the den and make sure all our stuff is still there. I'll check my room." Kane headed for the stairs.

"Hey! What about my room?"

Kane looked at Mark as if he had sprouted horns and a tail. "You don't have anything in your room worth stealing."


	3. Chapter 3

**Goldilocks and the Two Bears  
**Part III

There was a man in Kane's bed. He was cuddling Kane's pillow and snoring quietly. Kane thought he was wonderful. He leaned over the stranger, careful not to let any wax from the candle drip down onto the bed. If he were a poet, he would say the man's hair reminded him of spun gold and his skin was as white as alabaster. But Kane wasn't a poet so he settled for thinking he was wonderful.

"My rooms okay," said Mark, barging into the room. Kane shushed him immediately, but he paid him no mind. What he saw before him troubled him more than reruns of _PeeWee's Playhouse_. It spelt danger for their happy little home and he was sure that no good would come from it. "What…?" he started, pointing a shaky finger at his brother. His throat closed up, making an odd clicking noise whenever he tried to speak. He hadn't been this rattled since he'd caught his brother taking a bath with a bunch of ducklings. Clearing his throat, Mark tried again. "What… the hell are you doing with a candle?"

Kane looked at his brother like he and just grown wings and announced that he was the angel Gabriel. "Really, Mark?"

"We have _talked_ about this, Kane. You know how I feel about you and fire. I get nervous just watching you use the stove!"

"I cannot believe we are discussing this now." You burn down one tree house and you're branded for life. "There is some serious shit going on here."

"I'll say there is. Seeing you with that candle is making my colon do the mambo!"

Kane pushed him out of the room and closed the door behind him. "Will you get a hold of yourself?"

Mark blew out the candle. "There! Now, I'm better."

"We're also in the dark." He pulled a lighter from his pocket and used it to relight the candle. Mark quickly blew it out again. Kane lit the candle again and promptly coverer Mark's mouth with his hand. "You wanna play this game all night or do you want to get to the bottom of things?" After receiving the OK sign, he removed his hand.

"Where did you get that lighter?"

"I bought it." Kane smiled brightly, frightening his brother more than a lit candle ever could. "I got lighters hidden all over this house. In places you can't imagine. And if you don't focus, I'll stick _this_ someplace you can't imagine!"

"You don't have to get hostile," Mark mumbled. "I was only asking a question."

"Here's a better question: What should we do about him?"

Mark glanced at the door behind Kane. "If I were a kind man, a gentle man, I would say we should contact the authorities and let them deal with him. But I am neither kind nor gentle, so I vote we cover him in honey and sent him running through the woods."

Kane was not completely opposed to the Cover Him with Honey Plan, but didn't agree with the last part. Still, the idea had merit. "The guy's probably just lost. If he was interested in taking anything, he would have done it and gone. Since he's still here, what does that make him?"

"Stupid."

"You are hell-bent on being disagreeable, aren't you?"

"All I'm saying is that it's one thing to try to nurse a chipmunk back to health and another to…" Mark ran his fingers through his hair. This was one of the times that he really wished he had been an only child. "Hell, I don't even know what you want to do with him!"

Kane tilted his head to the side. "You remember the time that hunter got completely turned around and ended up down here? You remember how you took care of him?"

Mark took a step back, studying Kane from head to foot. It certainly _looked_ like his baby brother was standing in front of him. The man who threw a farewell party for the lake ducks at the end of every fall. The man who spent four hundred dollars on a camera just so he could take pictures of wildlife. The man who wanted to throw the hunter in the lake as soon as he saw his rifle. _This _was the man who wanted to… wanted to… "You wanna take care of him?"

"Uh huh."

"The same way I took care of the hunter?"

Kane looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe not in the exact same way. I won't be needing the string of pearls, the nipple clamps or the cat o'nine tails."

Mark clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Tonight, my boy, you become a man."

"You said the same thing the night of my eighteenth birthday after you paid that girl Stephanie twenty bucks to swallow my bone."

"That's all she did for you?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"That slut owes me ten bucks."


	4. Chapter 4

**Goldilocks and the Two Bears  
**Part IV

Chris was having the most delightful dream. He was hiding in the laundry basket in the middle of the men's track team's locker room. It was hot, it was stuffy, and he was surrounded by over a dozen well-toned, athletic young men. Each in various stages of undress. If he didn't get out soon, he would be overcome by the heady aromas of sweat and unwashed jockstraps. Unfortunately, he had no exit strategy and was content to stay there until he was discovered… or until he expired. Whichever came first.

It was as he was eying the firm, round backside of a particularly delicious-looking young buck by the name of Dwayne Johnson that the source of his fantasies, the cause of every hard-on he'd developed since setting foot on campus came into view. Jeff Hardy. Lean and supple like a willow tree, he was the star of the track team as well as co-captains, with his brother, of the soccer team. He was the object of Chris' most secret desires and he wanted him so badly he was willing to commit various illegal and immoral acts just to get closer to him. Acts like hiding in the laundry basket in the locker room of the men's track team.

Wearing nothing buy a towel around his hips, Chris watched, transfixed by the sway of those hips and the bounce of what was hidden beneath that towel, as Jeff walked right up to the laundry bin. He tossed off the used towels that had been Chris' camouflage, making his hiding place a little less hidden.

"Hello, Chris," Jeff purred. In Chris' dreams, Jeff always purred. "Are we being a naughty boy?"

Chris popped out of the bin. "Yes!" he chirped.

"You're a very dirty boy, aren't you?" Jeff ran a finger down Chris' bare chest.

"Yes!" repeated Chris, thrilled by the boy's touch.

"Then let's get you nice and clean."

Jeff helped Chris out of the basket and led him through the locker room, towards the showers. Lucky for Chris, he was already naked. That saved time that would otherwise be wasted on taking his clothes off. It was precious time that could be spent with his precious Jeff. His precious, gorgeous Jeff shoved him into one of the shower stalls and turned on the water.

"Now," purred Jeff, whipping off his towel, "I get you clean." He proceeded to rain hot kisses all over Chris' body.

He cried out as heat sparked to life on his nipple and whimpered when it quickly died away. An identical heat gently scorched its twin.

"Again, Jeff," he moaned, a little more than half mad with desire. "Please do it again."

The flare of heat returned, bordering on pain as a trail was made across his chest, from one nipple to the other.

"Who is Jeff?" It was a strange voice, a voice he did not recognize. A voice that most definitely did not belong to Jeff.

A puddle of heat formed on his belly and he gasped aloud, breaking the connection to the dream. The drag back to reality was slow, but little dabs of heat remained. It was like being pricked by a very hot needle.

"Who is Jeff?" the voice repeated. This time he felt a warm trickle on his inner thigh, stopping only inches from his groin.

The warm tingling sensation near his groin area woke Chris up faster than any cup of coffee or cold shower ever could. His eyelids peeled back and he tried to sit up but his body would not obey. It took a few moments before he realized his lack of movement was not due to uncooperative muscles but to his being restrained.

"I'd quit squirmin' if I were you," said the voice. "Or things could go from erotic to catastrophic in a matter of seconds."

For the first time, Chris noticed the owner of the voice. From what he could make out in the dim candlelight, the man was large, in both height and width. He had a broad chest that was covered in dark hair, long muscular arms, and hands big enough to crush the skull of a small, furry woodland creature. He was holding the candle in one of his skull-crushing hands.

"Who are you?" Chris asked, wishing his voice didn't wobble to way it did.

"You still haven't answered _my_ question." The man tilted the candle, ever so slightly, causing a drop of melted wax to fall from the edge.

Chris gasped, out of pleasure and surprise, when the drop landed in his belly button. It was followed by another and then another. Each identical drop landed in precise spots, until his navel was completely filled. He stared in admiration at this man and his steady, experienced hands. Chris was far from innocent – so far, he needed a ladder and a pair of binoculars just to catch of a glimpse of it. However, it was a short list of people he knew that possessed such skill and an even shorter list of those he would even consider trying this with.

"How do you do that?" he whispered, the man's original question completely forgotten.

"This?"

Kane poured five drops in succession, forming a circle around Chris' navel. His captive squeaked as he felt each drop of wax hit its mark. It was an intriguing sound, somewhere between a squeal and a moan. He was eager to find out what other sounds this young man was capable of making.

"It's really very simple," explained Kane. "The higher you hold the candle, the farther the wax has to fall, the longer it travels through the air, the cooler it will be when it finally makes contact with the skin." He held the candled higher and let a drop fall, just to show him the difference. "The key is to know how much heat the person can take. The closer the drop, the fiercer the burn." He lowered the candle, down past the original starting point, and poured a line of wax on the blonde's left side, tracing the line of his ribs. His houseguest yelped, bucking against his restraints. "Should I go lower?" He peeled off a bit of dried wax. "Or are you ready to answer my questions?"

"Yes," replied the only man Kane had ever tied to his bed. "Yes to anything you want."

_Anything?_ Perhaps it _was_ time to break out the honey pot. "Who is Jeff?"

Chris licked his dry lips and eyed the height of the candle. "He's a guy… that I kinda know."

The candle lowered a fraction of an inch. "You like him. I could tell by the way you said his name." Kane tilted his candle and gazed at the reflection of the flame in the drop of wax as it broke free. "I do not want to hear his name again." The next drop fell from a shorter distance. "You will not speak it." Another drop, a centimeter closer to the skin. "You will not think it." Another drop, even lower still. "Are we clear?"

Chris was breathless, speechless. His brain was a shriveled lump of clay surrounded in a layer of cotton. Never before had he known the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain. He'd heard it and read about it. But all the adjectives in the English language failed to truly capture its essence. A passion of need consumed him. The need to have more, to feel more, until there was nothing left of him. Sure, he was covered in more wax than a fake birthday cake and he had no idea how he was going to get it all off, but those were all minor inconveniences. He'd deal with them at a later time, most likely as he was trying to recall his address and telephone number.

"Are we clear?" repeated the man that Chris would do anything for, including forgetting all about Jeff Hardy and his elastic hips.

"Clear as a vodka martini, sir," stated Chris. His captor laughed at his remark.

"Not 'sir'… At least not yet… If we're lucky, we may get to that. However, for the time being, you can call me Kane."

He brought the candle to his face. Chris could see the blue irises of Kane's eyes and faint scars across his right cheek. He was not frightened, merely curious as to how they got there. It must not be a happy story, but Kane, for all his quirks and fetishes, did not seem to be an unhappy person.

"Jericho," he wheezed, his throat dry from all the excitement. "Chris Jericho."

"Chris Jericho," murmured Kane, testing the name on his tongue. The flame of the candle flickered with each exhalation. He tilted his head to the side and said, "You belong to me, Chris Jericho." He blew out the candle and the room went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Goldilocks and the Two Bears  
**Part V

While Kane peeled the wax from Chris' body, Chris explained who he was, where he'd come from, and how he'd ended up in what he assumed was Kane's bed. The more he talked, the crazier everything sounded. Getting lost in the woods, coming across this house and, instead of looking for a phone to call for help, taking a cat-nap in a stranger's bed. For all Chris knew, Kane could be some whacked-out axe murdered. However, Kane did not give off that kind of vibe. Sure, he was into a little bondage and some slight S&M, but deep down who wasn't?

Did serial killers usually bathe their victims before they sliced them open and wore their skin as suits?

The icy cold water was a shock to his system, but not completely unpleasant. It was a relief after trekking through the dank, dirty woods and made the patches of formerly wax-covered skin tingle. He leaned back in the tub and watched Kane meticulously scrub his body clean. When Kane moved closer to wash Chris' chest, Chris used the opportunity to brush the man's long brown hair away from his face. He let the soft strands slide along his fingers before tucking them behind Kane's ear. Chris saw that the scars continued down the side of his neck. He traced them with his fingertips.

Kane shoved his hand away. "Don't do that."

He sounded unsettled, but not angry. "I'm sorry," said Chris. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

"Then why can't I –"

"Because I don't like anyone touching it."

"Oh, " Chris softly replied. "I'm sorry."

Kane leaned back, away from the tub, and Chris hoped he hadn't offended him. Kane was interesting and Chris liked him very much. He didn't want anything to change.

"Up."

Slowly, Chris got to his feet and stood, naked and wet, in front of the kneeling man. Kane's face was level with Chris' crotch and Chris could feel his own face growing warm. As Kane washed Chris' lower half, Chris tried to come up with as many unflattering, disturbing, erection-reducing thoughts as was humanly possible. There was Mrs. Roarke, his ninth grade math teacher – a scrawny old crone with a three-pack-a-day habit – pole-dancing to Britney Spears' _Toxic_. There was that mink dissection lab in his senior year of high school.

Somewhere between a month-old tuna fish sandwich and necrophilia, Kane rubbed the washcloth against Chris' ass hole and the battle was lost. Chris grabbed hold of Kane's shoulders as the rubbing continued. This was going way beyond cleanliness.

"You okay up there?" Kane chucked when he saw Chris' eyes squeezed shut. The young man's his cheeks and ears were a bright, rosy red. This boy was more fun than a boxful of cherry bombs.

"Yeah… Just lost my balance…" Chris held strong to Kane's shoulders. When Kane dropped the cloth and gently prodded Chris' hole with his finger, Chris' jaw dropped. "Kane!" gasped Chris, nails digging into the flesh of the man's shoulders.

"Problems, Chris?" Kane's hot breath made the cock in front of his face twitch. He pressed his finger forward, his second knuckle passing though the tight ring of muscles.

_I'm gonna draw blood in a minute_, thought Chris. "Only if you stop."

"If I what?"

The digit was completely inside him and it was moving in a come-hither fashion that almost made Chris swallow his own tongue. "Stop!" The finger was gone before he could draw his next breath, leaving him feeling empty and on the verge of tears. "Nooo…" he whimpered most pitifully.

Kane climbed to his feet and helped a wobbly-legged Chris out of the tub. "Don't worry. I'm not through with you yet." He toweled him dry, paying special attention to Chris' cock, balls, and bottom. "You don't think I'd be satisfied with just a quick fondle in the bathroom, do you?"

Kane picked Chris up and turned to carry him back into the bedroom. Chris wrapped his arms around Kane's neck and his legs around his waist. With every step, his cock rubbed against Kane's belly in such a delightful manner that had Chris mewling in contentment by the time they'd reached the bed.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Kane asked, placing Chris on the bed. He switched on the bedside lamp.

After being ten steps away from coming all over a man he had only just met, Chris wondered how much more personal the two of them could get. "Sure."

Kane opened the top drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a bottle. "Why do your Jockeys say 'Goldilocks'?" He pointed to the pile of neatly folded clothes that Chris had been wearing. On the top of the pile was Chris' underwear.

"It's the nickname my brothers gave me," replied Chris. It wasn't the most original name they could've come up with but, compared to what some of the other pledges got called, it was by far the tamest.

"I know all about brothers. Mine makes Jack the Ripper look like a boy scout that was just trying to help those poor ladies home."

"Can I ask _you_ a personal question?" inquired Chris.

"Is it about my brother?"

"No, but it is about you."

Kane tilted his head to the side. "Go right ahead." He figured he was going to be questioned as to why he was living out in the middle of nowhere with a semi-psychotic sibling. That would have been his first question.

Chris mimicked Kane's head-tilt. "Why are you wearing leather pants?"

The pants in question were Kane's favorite. Colored a rich burgundy, years of wear had left them soft and supple. "Mark and I – that's my brother – went to town to get a late supper. We rode our bikes there, seeing as they don't deliver this far out."

"Even if they did, I bet those delivery boys would expect a heck of a tip."

"And all they'd get is a left to the gut and a right across the chops."

Chris smiled. "Enlightening as that explanation is, you still haven't answered my question." He raised an eyebrow suggestively. "Why are you _wearing_ leather pants?"

Though not usually slow on the uptake, it took a minute for Kane to catch his meaning. "You want them off now," he realized.

"Actually, I wanted them off three minutes ago," replied Chris. "But now is good, too."

With a flick of his thumb and a snap of his wrist, his pants dropped, pooling around his ankles. Deciding that now was not the time for neatness, he kicked them into the corner. Completely naked, he climbed onto the bed to join his companion.


	6. Chapter 6

**Goldilocks and the Two Bears  
**Part VI

Chris had never been one to back down from any challenge. Doubt was something that happened to other people. But with this bear of a man crawling ever closer to him, he was unsure if he would make it through the night. When Kane caught him by the ankle and dragged Chris towards him in one mighty pull, Chris feared he would expire within the hour. Kane loomed large over him, his arms like stone pillars. Sweat broke out on Chris' forehead and his body tensed as a hand wrapped around his throat.

"Chris," Kane whispered, lowering his head until their noses touched. "Do I frighten you?"

Chris swallowed, feeling a thumb pressed against his Adam's apple. "Yes."

"Do you want me to stop? Do you want me to let you go?"

His heart raced and he knew Kane could feel his pulse pounding. "No."

"Why?" Their lips brushed for a fraction of a second.

"Because…" Chris started, and then paused. He tried to tip his head enough to close the gap between them, but Kane would not allow it. "Because I think I want to be frightened."

Kane released the breath he had not realized he'd been holding. He kissed Chris, hard, mashing their lips together. There was no light stroking of his tongue against Chris' lips, no gentle invitation. He bit Chris' lower lip and, much to his delight, Chris bit him back. A playful yet aggressive series of nips soon followed until their lips were red and tender. Kane's tongue invaded Chris' mouth, sliding along his teeth and gums before diving to the back of his throat.

Chris could barely breathe. One of his hands clawed at the hand around his throat, the other dove into Kane's hair and pulled hard. Kane withdrew from him and Chris tried to squirm out of his reach. Kane caught him by the wrists, pressing them into the mattress. He latched onto the side of Chris' neck with his teeth and increased the pressure of his bite until Chris quit his struggling.

Looking down on him in satisfaction, Kane growled, "No more fighting." His mouth returned to Chris' neck. He swirled his tongue over the marks he'd left there. With a whimper and a moan, Chris tilted his head to the side, giving Kane better access, a silent agreement to Kane's terms.

"You are a rare thing," he said against Chris' throat. He kissed his way down Chris' chest.

"You're not too bad yourself." Once free of Kane's grips, his hands returned to Kane's head. One hand ran through his hair, the other lightly stroked the scars on Kane's face and neck.

Again, Kane swatted the hand away from his face. "I'm going to have to do something about your mouth, though."

Chris smiled and tried to guide his head lower. "Good luck with that."

Kane moved much quicker than Chris had anticipated. Before he could get out a word of protest, Kane had him bent practically in half; his feet hovered over his head, his ass pointed towards the ceiling, and his cock flopped against his stomach. Struggle as he might, he could not right himself. Kane held him by the back of his thighs, keeping him in place.

"There," said Kane, triumphantly. "That's much better."

Chris hurled a few choice words at the man, including an insinuation that his mother was a woman of loose morals and his father resembled a horse's hind end. His cursing ceased the moment Kane's tongue touched his hole. What followed was a string of long, wordless moans as that tongue circled the puckered flesh before working its way slowly, deeply inside. Kane removed one hand from Chris' thigh and used it to tenderly caress his balls. Chris' moans grew louder and his legs began to tremble as Kane pressed a finger his hole. Slowly it sank in, squeezing through that tight ring of muscles until it was completely inside. Then it was just as slowly pulled out. In and out it went, so many times that Chris thought he would go mad.

A second finger joined the first and Chris was soon clutching the bed sheets. His cock throbbed against his stomach, its flushed, purple head leaking fluid down onto his chest. His need to come was so great his balls ached. All it would take was the lightest of strokes to completely undo him. The two fingers in his ass spread apart, scissoring back and forth. The muscles in his stomach rippled as he was spread open and he could no longer hold back.

He would have shot his load all over himself if Kane had not squeezed the base of his cock, cutting off his orgasm. "Not yet," said Kane, his fingers swirling around Chris' insides. "Not until I'm inside you. Then you can come as much as you want."

"Then stop doing that," Chris panted. He tried to focus on something other than Kane's sliding fingers. "Otherwise, all the squeezing in the world won't stop it from happening"

Kane removed his fingers though part of Chris was saddened by the loss. With a little help, he was right side up again. He backed away from Kane and tried to regain control over himself. He hadn't felt this flustered since the first time he'd given head. It had been his best friend's sixteenth birthday party and the two of them had been up in the boy's bedroom with the whole family sitting downstairs. The kid's mother had barged into the room just as Chris finished wiping the evidence from his chin.

The memory gave Chris an idea. Deciding it was time Kane got a taste of his own medicine, Chris crawled towards him on his hands and knees until he was face the cock with the kneeling Kane. Looking up at him, he wrapped his hand around the shaft, not the least bit surprised when his fingertips did not meet. Kane was L.T.H. Long, thick, and hard. Not taking his eyes off Kane's face, Chris swirled his tongue around the tip of his cock. He stroked and licked, eventually sucking the head into his mouth. He loved the way Kane's eyelids fluttered with each flick of his tongue.

Kane sat back on his heels and watched as Chris lovingly sucked his cock. Their eyes locked when he felt the tip touch the back of Chris' throat. No one had ever taken him so deeply and Chris seemed content to just stay there, holding him in his mouth. Gradually, Chris pulled back until only the head remained in his mouth and soon that, too, passed between his lips. The image of Chris kneeling before him, a thread of saliva bridging the gap between his swollen lips and the tip of Kane's cock, would never leave his mind.

"I like this," sighed Chris. His hand continued to stroke Kane. "Being with you… Touching you…" His hand moved faster. It was slick from his spit and slid easily along the shaft. "Sucking you… _Especially_ sucking you." He mouthed the head of his cock, gliding it across his lips. "Do you have any idea how good you taste?" Not waiting for an answer, he tongued the slit, sampling the juice flowing from there. "I think… I could do this all day, every day, and be the happiest person on the planet."

Kane combed his fingers through Chris' hair as he took him in his mouth again. Watching that blond head bob up and down, Kane vowed to find a way to make that happen. He imagined there could be no better thing in the world than to have Chris treat him like this every day.

Well… There could be _one_ thing better…

Reluctantly, he pulled Chris' mouth off of his cock. Chris' moans of protest warmed his heart and he promised that there would be time for more of that later. Right now, he wanted to be inside Chris, to make him come. He retrieved the bottled he'd taken from the nightstand. Pouring some of its liquid in his hand, he rubbed it on his cock. Once he was slick enough, he positioned himself behind Chris. He slid a lubricated finger into Chris' ass, followed by another one, and then a third. Chris thrust himself backwards onto those fingers, whimpering softly as he rode them.

It was obvious the boy was ready.

Kane removed his fingers and rubbed the head of his cock against the opening. Holding Chris by the hips, he pressed forward. He entered him gradually, groaning as the tip squeezed through his tight ring and he felt the entire head pop inside. Chris' whole body shook as he moaned loudly. Kane continued to press forward, pushing himself deeper inch by inch.

"Oh God…" Chris whispered. He was being stretched and filled by this wonderful man and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to last. Kane felt so good and it had been so long since he'd been taken like this. None of his lovers had been anywhere near Kane's league. Thighs trembling, he feared he would faint before he got to the bottom.

Finally reaching bottom, Kane ground his hips against Chris' backside and held him still for a moment. It was a tight fit and every muscle in Chris' ass rippled around his cock. He resisted his first instinct, which was to fuck him through the wall. He wanted to take his time, give Chris every inch of him over and over until he came. He wanted to make Chris buck and moan and scream his name.

"Chris?" He kissed the man's sweaty shoulder. "Are you alright?" Kane didn't think he'd hurt hum, but he had to be sure. Now that he was fully inside, Chris could have changed his mind.

"Yes," sighed Chris. "I just…" He swiveled his hips, eliciting a groan from both himself and his lover. Looking over his shoulder at Kane, he shifted his hips again. "I just need you to do it already… It feels like I'll go crazy if you don't." He couldn't stop himself from moving; to need to feel Kane sliding inside him was just too much. "Fuck me… Please…" He could feel the head of Kane's cock buried deep inside him, rubbing against him in ways he'd never dreamed of. "Please, Kane…"

Kane leaned forward until he was up on his knees, the change in position causing Chris to cry out. "Grab the railing." Chris did as instructed, grasping the top rail of the headboard in both hands.

Holding Chris by his waist, Kane pulled back until only the uppermost part remained inside him. He then slammed the rest of his cock back inside him, deep into his ass. Over and over again, he'd pull out only to slam back home. Chris' cheeks slapped against Kane's thighs with every thrust.

"Harder," Chris panted. His head rolled back as he held onto the railing as if his life depended on it. Kane's steady rhythm sent his own cock bouncing against his belly. "Fuck me harder… Make me take you… Make me feel every inch of you…"

"Like this, Chris? Is this how you want it?" He pounded him harder, riding deep into Chris' ass. He was so hot and tight, Kane could not resist giving him everything he had. He pressed his face into Chris' hair, basking in his scent, burning it into his memory. He wanted to keep it all. The way he smelled. The way his hips moved, always pushing back to meet Kane halfway. The way he said his name. "Take it… Take all I have…"

Chris whipped his head back and forth. "God, you're so _deep_! … How can you… be so…?" He broke into a fit of uncontrollable groans. The tip of Kane's cock kept hitting his sweet spot, driving him closer to the edge with every thrust. "Right there… Keep going… Just like that… Just like that…"

He could feel Chris growing tighter around him. He reached up and pinched one of Chris' nipples, making him scream even louder. "You gonna come for me? Come for me right now… Do it for me." He pushed Chris' hair aside and sunk his teeth into the meat of Chris' shoulder, breaking the skin.

"Yes! Yes, please!" He reached back, grabbing Kane's head. He could hold back no longer. Kane felt too good, worked his body just right. "I'm close… so close…" It was all too much. The air in the room was too hot to breathe and he could feel _everything_. Kane's breath on his skin, the weight of his body against Kane's thighs, the slip and slide of the metal rail beneath his hand. "I'm coming… Kane…"

Lightning sizzled behind his eyelids and every muscle in his body locked as the full strength of his orgasm crashed down on him. Air rushed from his lungs and it felt like he was drowning. The ringing in his ears was so loud he couldn't hear himself screaming. One and on it went for what felt like forever. Then it was over. His limbs were heavy, as if their bones had been taken out and sand was put in their place. There was a dull burning in his shoulder.

Kane lowered Chris onto the bed, their bodies still connected. There was no book or video in existence that could have prepared him for Chris' reaction. It was like fireworks had gone off in the boy's body making him shake with every explosion. His internal muscles had gripped Kane so fiercely, he doubted they would ever let go. He kissed the lips of his spent lover, hoping he didn't notice how he tasted like blood.

Chris' eyes fluttered open and, with hazy vision, he gazed up at the man that had put all his past bedmates to shame. "Kane," he sighed. "That was…"

"Shh…" He brushed his lips against Chris' again. "Don't speak. Just rest."

When Kane moved to kiss him, he let out a weak moan. Their bodies were still joined. Kane's erection rubbed against his insides. "You're still hard," he whispered. Chris' muscles instinctively twitched around Kane's cock. "Did you come?"

It took all of Kane's will power not to rock his hips against Chris' bottom. "Not yet." He allowed himself one rock that had them both groaning from the friction. "Later. After you've rested." He leaned back and began to pull out.

"No!" Chris wrapped his legs around Kane's waist, locking his ankles behind his back. "I don't want to rest. I want you to come, too. I want you to feel what I felt."

Kane kissed Chris on the forehead. "You really are a rare thing." As Chris relaxed his grip on Kane's waist, Kane lifted Chris' hips off the bed and set a long, slow rhythm. In. Out. "You come in, uninvited." In. Out. "You eat my food." In. Out. "You sleep in _my_ bed." In. Out. "And now…" In. "Now…" Out. He leaned forward, covering Chris' body with his own, placing his weight on his forearms so as not to crush him. The movement drove him deep into Chris' body again, drawing a moan from Chris' lips. "Now you are mine, Goldilocks."

With an almost painful slowness, he moved. No longer thrusting, he used a kind of stirring method. Swiveling his hips around and around, he brushed against Chris' walls, churning up his insides. Constantly changing speed, direction, pressure, and depth, Chris never knew what to expect next. He could only hold onto Kane and share deep kisses. The need to dominate was gone. Chris had willingly offered himself to Kane, holding nothing back, and Kane reciprocated. All that remained was the desire to extend this blissful moment. One more kiss. One more sigh. One more caress.

"Kane," whispered Chris. He tenderly touched the scars on his face, tracing their edges with his fingertips. Kane leaned into his touch, brushing his lips across Chris' palm. "One more time, Kane…" He could feel the pressure building, his muscles twitching and fluttering. "Please…Can we… together?" He gasped as Kane's hips moved in a frantic pace.

"Yes…" Kane was almost there. Chris held him delicious tightness. The friction from his grip, the heat of his body, and the slickness of their sweat-covered skin all worked together to grant Chris' wish, triggering the deepest orgasm of Kane's life. Chris arched his back, crying out his name as he came. Kane was close behind him, coming hard, spilling his seed into Chris' spent body until those muscles milked his cock of his last drops.

They stayed that way, joined together, until Kane softened and slipped free. Kane rolled off of Chris, but did not go far. He pulled Chris into his arms and held him against his chest. He was not normally the cuddling type, but Chris seemed to bring that part out of him. Besides, he welcomed any opportunity to keep Chris close by.

Chris sighed, deeply content. He was tired, his body was sore, and he was covered in sweat and come. But he was happy just the same because Kane was with him and showed no signs of letting him go. That alone was worth a decade's worth of Denny's runs. "I think I need another bath," he groaned, stretching out the muscles in his legs.

"There's also a shower." Kane nipped at Chris' bottom lip and was thrilled when Chris gave him one in return. Chris had so many nibble-worthy parts; he figured it would take hours, maybe days, to explore them all. It would certainly be time well spent. "We could take one together." He reached down between Chris' legs and slipped a finger inside him.

"What are the chances," moaned Chris as Kane slowly fingered him, "of me making it out of that shower unmolested?"

Kane added another finger. Pressing against Chris' sweet spot, he growled, "Not a chance in hell."

**And they all lived happily ever after...**

**The End**


End file.
